Hello my WordPress friends! If you missed it, part 1 to this tantalizing D/s tale can be found here.
P.S. In case you missed it, The Mentor, was written by my friend, Implacable
Written by Implacable
I haven’t mentioned the woman standing in the far corner. There she was, naked down to her stockings, sobbing and sniffing. Her hands were by her sides and her nose was pressed into the corner. She tottered on high heels – certainly higher than the ones I was wearing. Her bottom and the backs of her thighs were a brilliant red, on which canvas, was painted numerous welts. I was gasping and stammering. Semen seeped from the woman’s behind and trickled down her thighs to pool at her stocking tops before spilling over and tracking a little way down the nylon. I remember the scene clearly to this day along with the curious thought that I hoped the semen wouldn’t spill onto the carpet and ruin it. It was one of the most erotic sights that I have ever seen, and one of the most disturbing at the time. Had I been wearing knickers, I think they would have become instantly soaked; I know that my thighs became instantly silky slick, a familiar sign that I was well aroused.
“May I introduce my wife, Chloe. Chloe, please turn around and meet Natalie Lindall.”
Chloe turned around and my senses were again greeted with a new assault. The front of Chloe’s belly and thighs had also been whipped; surely that wasn’t semen seeping from her sex as well?
It was clear that she felt ashamed to greet me in such a fashion. How could any woman feel otherwise? Here I was, a stranger in her home, and she was stripped of all pretence, with clear evidence of both having been disciplined and sex. That sort of honesty takes rather a lot of getting used to.
“Chloe, please return to the corner.” The stern command was issued once a brief greeting had been forth-coming from Chloe. “Natalie, would you please take a seat.”
Rupert seated himself on the other side of the desk. He radiated an intense aura of power that I had never before experienced. It is something I feel still today, but it is never as intense as when he is in his study – as though that room is his true home.
“I’m sure you were shocked by the instructions I gave you today, even more so by what you have just witnessed. It is not an accident that I asked you to come at this time.” He stopped his monologue – obviously part of a prepared oration. “By the way, would you please raise your skirt at the back. Whenever you are seated in this room, I require your naked buttocks to touch the chair. I am a very great admirer of “The Story Of O”, and I like to effect some of the rituals from that book. Are you familiar with it?”
“No.” I responded as I raised my skirt at the back and let my naked bottom sit on the deep blue damask upholstery that matched the rest of the room. It was a deliciously sensual feeling. How naughty, how nice! I fervently hoped that my sopping sex wouldn’t leave a wet patch on the chair.
“I will give you a copy to read when you leave this evening. I would value your critique of it on your next visit.”
“Thank you, er … Rupert?” Suddenly I realised that I didn’t know how to address this man. A week or two ago, I would have been on the phone to the social workers to report him for spousal-abuse. Now, confronted by a seemingly open and shut case, I realised life was much more complex than I had imagined in my black and white, easy solution thinking. And how would I explain that I myself had just bought, of my own free will, implements for my own spanking? It was starting to dawn on me that this man did indeed have a lot to teach me.
He sensed my confusion. “I think you should call me Sir from now on. It will serve to delineate our relationship as master and pupil. I have agreed to be your teacher, but a mentor is much more. I am now your life guide. You have made an astute decision to put yourself into my hands. I will broaden your mind, increase your mental and physical capacities, and free you from the many restrictions with which society has ensnared you. At the very least, you will come to understand your real self and that is a most valuable gift that I shall give to you.” He said all this with a gentle, almost loving voice that caressed my senses. I realised that I adored to hear this man speak.
“As your mentor, I will earn your respect.” I made to interrupt him with protestations that I already respected him. “I don’t mean the professional respect that we undoubtedly hold for each other already. No, I mean the respect that will arise between us as we get to understand each other’s deepest strengths and weaknesses, as people, not as colleagues.
“As I was saying, I asked you to arrival at this time so that you could see the results of Chloe’s lesson. Chloe has been spanked, but she has not been punished. Every Friday evening, Chloe comes to my study to further her learning and mine. She gives herself to me freely – is that not so my love?” He turned to his wife who still had her pretty nose stuck in the corner.
“Yes, master.” was the muffled reply. No more, no less.
“Chloe has given herself to me totally. She is my wife, but she is much more than a wife. When I say given, I mean it in the absolute sense. There is no aspect of her life that is not ordered by me. I ordain her every action, the way she dresses, what she eats, to whom she talks, where she goes, when she bathes, even when she performs her bodily functions. I mould her very thoughts. Her gift of her life is precious to me. Probably more precious than my own life. She may withdraw her gift at any time. I am blessed that she chooses to continually renew her gift each morning.”
Gob-smacked, I remain silent and enthralled.
“If I have sex with you, I will not ask Chloe’s permission. If I require her to have sex with you, or to discipline you, I will express my requirements and they shall be carried out. At least from Chloe’s end.” He chuckled as my mouth gaped open at his assumption that I would consent to having sex with anyone. But he soon put my thinking right on that score. “In a very short time, I will not need to seek your consent either.” he said, his amusement at my confusion and shock most evident. “As my pupil, I will expect complete and utter obedience.”
I continued my fish impersonations. I couldn’t seem to find any coherent words. I guess it must have been my day for it.
“Come, it is time to show me your purchases.”
I lifted the hold-all onto the desk and extracted each of the implements I had acquired that afternoon. Sir examined each one and laid them neatly on the desk.
“These will do nicely.” he noted. “Your choice of cane is appropriate for a novice. Over the next few months, you acquire a number of canes of varying dimensions, plus of course, a range of other implements. While I favour the cane, I do rather like to mix things up.” He turned to his wife. How could she keep so still and composed while her husband entertained another woman like this? I was to learn, in time, precisely the sort of self-discipline required.
“Chloe. Would you please take these implements and mark them with Natalie’s name.” Chloe, immediately left her position and came to the table and collected the implements I was soon to become so intimate with. I caught her eye. I don’t think I had ever seen a woman so alive, so sexual, so full of ‘joie de vivre’ than Chloe. Her make-up had run with her tears, but this merely served to increase the eroticism of her whole demeanour. The intuition flashed through my mind that if being thrashed could make this woman so obviously happy then perhaps it might do the same thing for me.
As Chloe left the room, Sir continued. “As this is your first lesson, I am going to be very, very lenient with you. You may not think so at the time, but you will look back on this evening and wonder why you ever made such a fuss. And make a fuss you will, I promise you.”
“But …?” My voice trailed off. Why should I be spanked at all? What had I done to deserve it?
Again sensing my confusion, Sir continued, “You have not done anything to deserve punishment. I do not intend to punish you. Believe me, you will know it when I do. No, tonight, I intend merely to start your training. As I told you when you agreed to my methods, your training includes, among other things, the physical application of pain. Believe me, it is a very effective technique for instilling the attributes that I seek to build in you. Attributes such as self-discipline, self-confidence and inner strength.
“Did you not sense those attributes in Chloe? If I may be allowed the conceit, it is due to my methods that I have been able to instil those in my wife and I shall surely do so for you.
“Your early lessons will focus on obedience and trust. Until you have learned to trust me, you will always struggle with obedience. You have started along the path already, for you have trusted me enough to present yourself here tonight, knowing that I have demanded certain demonstrations of your obedience already.
“I am now going to bind your hands behind your back. There is no real need to secure you, your spanking will not be that hard to bear, but the act of submitting to being bound will require trust and learning to trust me and those to whom I give you is one of your first lessons.
“But come, first, take off your pretty dress. I trust that you have complied with the remainder of my instructions.”
“Ah, yes. I was rather meaning to discuss those with you Sir. I … I’m not sure I want to have anal sex, especially unprotected.” There. I’d said it. Said it with quite a quaver in my voice that betrayed my inner turmoil, but I had said it; this nonsense had gone far enough! It was time to put my foot down and set some decent boundaries.
“You are dismissed.”
No discussion or persuasion. Just dismissed! Not fair; how is a girl supposed to deal with that. So of course I immediately threw all my principles to the wind and started begging. “No! Please Sir, I’m sorry, it’s just so much to ask without easing me into. Please have pity on me. Please, just one more chance Sir! I beg you.”
“My dear Natalie … I will give you this one chance. Understand this well. You may always refuse my requests, orders if you like, but if you do so, you are choosing to end our arrangement. You may scream and howl, beg for mercy or whatever, but you may never refuse that which I choose to do to you, or require you to do yourself. Is that perfectly clear? I will not relent a second time.”
Oh the sternness of his tone. The perfect commanding voice. I melted completelyto his will. I cannot understand to this day why I felt such panic at the thought of being cast aside, but it was a feeling of pure terror, terror and intense gratitude that he was willing to make an exception for me. He wouldn’t ever need to again. I resolved that in my mind straight away.
I must have fallen to my knees in front of his desk, so abject was my terror. I was in a flood of tears. He stood up and came around the desk to gently pick me up. He cradled me in his arms until I regained control of myself.
“I know it’s a shock. But this is for real; it is no game. You must be sure that you understand what it is that you are committing yourself to. Do you understand what I have just said to you?”
I couldn’t speak. I nodded.
“No. You must acknowledge me directly. I am requiring you to submit yourself totally to me, now. There is no limit to pain I will inflict on you, nor the degradation and depravity that I will require of you. But in return, I promise that I will reveal the true Natalie Lindall. Now tell me, do you accept?”
A small mouse voice piped up “Yes Sir, I understand, and I accept.” Now where it came from I couldn’t tell you. But I meant it all the same. I can honestly say it was the best decision of my life.
“Now remove your dress and bend over the desk. I wish to examine your conformance with my instructions.”
With a rather ruddy face I meekly complied. I pulled off my dress folded it and put it on the chair. Christ! There was a dark patch on the seat – oh the shame of it. I looked Sir in the eye and saw that he too had noticed it.
It is a jolly hard thing for a girl to strip off and expose herself to a relative stranger in such circumstances. Even more so when it is obvious he wants to look at your anus! Still, what did I expect, given the instructions I’d been given earlier? I tried hard not to cover my breasts or my sex, though the exposure was a trial. He made no pretence of averting his gaze. Instead he devoured me. I quickly bent over the desk – the lesser of two evils? Funny how nowadays, I cannot get enough of his admiration for my body; I would pose in the most lewd of positions just for his pleasure and adore the attention.
Sir stroked my back and thighs before tying my hands. The tie was not overly tight and the rope was a soft silky material, but it felt so intimidating to have the freedom of my hands suddenly taken from me. Intimidating and strangely, after my initial panic, soothing. My bondage, no matter that it was of the lightest variety, absolved me from responsibility for all that was subsequently to happen. It was the beginning of another love affair, my infatuation with restraint. Since then, I have come to understand how much more powerful is the conscious self-discipline of offering oneself up without restraint, but that was a lesson for the future. This lesson was about trust. And boy was I ever trusting this man that night!
Once my hands were tied it was inevitable that the next item on the agenda would be the parting of my buttocks. I struggled with myself not to tense my muscles; a smart slap on the bum and a growled admonition served to let me know that I wasn’t succeeding very well. A pair of strong hands overcame my resistance and parted my cheeks. A finger intruded where it shouldn’t. It slipped in insultingly easily! “I’m glad you have seen fit to obey me in your preparations. I will now demonstrate to you why it is important for you that you did.”
Sir leant over me and his index finger was thrust towards my mouth. “Suck my finger please.”
I did so. It tasted a little savoury. Not particularly unpleasant, just savoury. And then I realised it tasted of my behind and the olive oil that I had used as a lubricant. Extra virgin of course (who am I kidding?). I now understood why cleanliness was important.
Sir reinforced the lesson. “I take pleasure with women in many ways. I will certainly indulge myself in all three of your major orifices, and often. However, my first pleasure is sodomy and I will require that your behind is ALWAYS available to me. I will forego your sex during your menstrual period, but I will not forego your behind at any time. It is therefore in your interest to always be well lubricated and clean. I enforce cleanliness through a simple technique. Anything that is introduced into your anus, whether it be a finger, a tongue, a penis or an artificial implement like a vibrator, will afterwards visit your mouth to be cleaned. I suspect you will find my method is salutary to ensure your bottom is always clean for me.”
“Yes Sir.” I mumbled. Oh God, how bad was this going to be. I can’t believe I didn’t do a runner there and then. But then I’ve always been a sucker for trying things before rejecting them – this time literally! He was right about one thing though, his method sure was effective. My arse was going to be the cleanest in Christendom if I had anything to do with it.
At his command, I spread my legs wide. A rather pleasant investigation of my pussy ensued. Clearly Sir was pleased with me because he frigged me until I came. I was just making those ridiculous cooing and aahing noises that a girl does when she no longer cares who is listening, when Chloe returned. I orgasmed just as she put the cane down in front of my nose. Talk about timing!
It has taken me a long time to understand that Chloe is genuinely not jealous of her husband’s activities with other women. I have to admit that orgasming in front of her that first time sent some decidedly mixed feelings running through my veins – not that I really cared at the time. That’s the nice thing about an orgasm – you really don’t give a fuck about anything else at that moment. [I really am going to catch it aren’t I!]
[… Another coffee break. I’m sure my pussy is bleeding, it has to be it hurts so much. No, no blood. Oh well back to painland. It sure is helping my concentration though, I have to admit that. Thank you Sir … so bloody much, you bastard.]
As I recovered my senses, I found Sir speaking to me again, “I am now going to put you over my knee and spank you. You will find that I always start a session this way. It warms your bottom and allows a much more rigorous thrashing later without the concern that I will draw blood too early. If I want to draw blood I will, believe me, but that is reserved for special occasions such as genuine punishments, not simple lessons.”
As a lamb to the slaughter, I flopped somewhat ungracefully across Sir’s lap. With my arms tied behind my back, there was just no way I was going to do it any other way. I don’t think I‘d ever done this before as an adult (so many firsts tonight, my head was just in a whirl).
And so I was spanked. A hard heavy hand smacked at my cheeks. I learned a few more things rather quickly:
- Even if it looks like it can’t really hurt much it does;
- It hurts a lot less if you are spanked on alternate cheeks as the sting dissipates quite quickly. On the other hand, a dozen smacks on the same cheek in a row will have most girls smarting very nicely thank you;
- With your hands tied behind your back, excessive wriggling trying to avoid the smacks will soon have you hitting the floor pretty hard. I did it a few times and that led to further discoveries;
- Falling off Sir’s lap (the bastard wouldn’t hold me on very tightly, though he could have) means having to go across his lap again and receiving lots of smacks on my thighs. And then opening my legs wide so he can smack my inner thighs;
- Smacks on your thighs hurt a lot;
- Smacks on your inner thighs hurt lots more;
- I really hope he doesn’t decide to smack my pussy. I’m convinced that it would hurt most of all. (I’ve subsequently had the chance to gather empirical evidence supporting my hypothesis and I’m right.) Anyway he’d get a wet hand because;
- Being spanked is a hell of a turn on at the same that it really hurts!
I couldn’t tell you how long I was spanked for. It seemed like a bloody long time, but I suspect it was probably for five or ten minutes at the most. I cried. I think I started crying fairly early in the proceedings and I howled and sniffled and sobbed and wept from there on in. And I had the most wonderful orgasm too. I probably ought to mention that, to be fair. In fact I had two. The second one was a lazy, long building one and sort of peaked just as Sir was finishing me off. I hung limply across his lap after that and just absorbed the few remaining smacks. I was sort of in heaven. I can’t remember ever having three orgasms in one night, certainly not so quickly together – perhaps this bottom smacking thing wasn’t so bad after all!
Oh, and I learned that your nose dribbles like anything when you’re howling away and you are swallowing tears and snot and who knows what and you don’t really care because that is rather unimportant at the time. I’ve probably swallowed rather a lot of snot since then. Not something a girl really likes to admit. I promise you, all dignity goes straight out the door when you are being spanked. Not pretty, but the truth will out. At least not pretty for the girl swallowing it, but having since had the pleasure of watching a number of other women being spanked it is a very, very erotic sight for the on-lookers to watch a pretty girl in such dire straights that her eyes are pouring out tears and her nose is running.
It was my turn to stand in the corner this time. It felt like I was standing there for hours, but it was probably only ten minutes. I was tutored by Chloe, hands would have been at my sides, except that they were still bound behind my back, nose (still running) right up against the corner. Chloe informed me that the more traditional hands on head wouldn’t really work as it made it almost impossible to get the nose into the corner. I didn’t laugh, but I’m sure I smiled just a little bit into my corner.
It’s an amazing thing standing there staring at the wall. Actually, I usually shut my eyes otherwise I’d go cross-eyed. It’s like being in your own little world. You can hear what’s going on behind you, and you are usually, at least initially, trying to cope with an atrociously stinging something or other. If you’ve just had your tits whipped then the cool of the wall can help a bit. I’m an easy crier – it has taken a very long career of thrashings for me to remain dry eyed for long. And I still cry far more often than other girls I’ve since met in similar situations. In contrast, Chloe cries relatively little. Anyway, once you’ve had a few minutes to stop wailing and weeping and the initial sting has gone out of whatever body parts were in the firing line, you get to just stand there in quiet contemplation. I find it amazing, but your mind soon drifts to things other than the violence just visited upon your body, or the violence still to come as is so often the case. It can bring the most amazing peace at a time when you would expect your mind to be in utter turmoil.
[Speaking of corners, I’ve just about had all I can take of this fucking piece of wood. Whoever invented this idea must have had a strong chance at getting the chief torturer’s job in hell is all I can say.]
I was spared the martinet that night. Sir said it was quite useful for reddening my bottom, but that he more often preferred to use it on other parts of a woman’s body, particularly the more sensitive portions such as her breasts or sex. As this was my first session, he was restricting my tribulations to my bottom. I remember thanking all the gods that might possibly exist for that little (little?) favour.
“However,” he continued, “I will cane you, and just before you leave here tonight, I will acquaint you with the pleasures of the hairbrush.
To be continued….